End: Lois Lane Does Not Wake Up

Sometimes, luck can be pushed too far. For Lois Lane, the spores, coupled with the drinks she had already had, overwhelmed her. She was in a deep sleep as Jorge and Mac began their work.

The reporter moaned softly, but did not wake, as Mac grabbed her breasts and squeezed them roughly, so the nipples pushed out. Jorge grabbed a pair of syringes of green goo and pushed them gently into the pink nubs. Even then, as he injected Poison Ivy's latest mixture into her breasts, Lois did not wake.

When the syringes were empty, Mac released her breasts. He smiled to see the pale blue veins beneath the reporter's skin begin to turn a faint green. Jorge was already busy with the next series of injections.

Perhaps, in her dreams, Lois Lane felt each penetration. Her body went stiff as brown fingers pinched her clit, so that the needle could be stabbed into the nub of flesh. The pink flesh went purple as the green goo was **** into the tissue, and even when the fingers went away the clit was engorged and discolored as the serum slowly diffused into the reporter's labia. The better to alter her tissues on a genetic level.

There were injections in her ass, her neck, even between her toes. As the minutes ticked by, the reporter shivered and beads of sweat began to form on her naked body. Her stiff nipples oozed green drops. Her body quaked and soft moans escaped from her mouth, yet her eyes remained resolutely closed. Limp and helpless, they rolled the reporter onto her side for the last injection. Mac pulled the reporter's black hair away to expose the back of her neck.

"Wait."

Mac and Jorge froze as Poison Ivy entered the room. She grinned as she saw the reporter, naked and ****. The latest of her test subjects. Perhaps to be her masterpiece.

"I want to do this one myself," Ivy said, as she took the largest of the syringes and knelt down.

There is a hole at the base of the skull. The needle pushed through the skin and forward, right into Lois Lane's brain. To the part that separated human being from plant. A separation that Ivy was determined to erase.

A sensual thrill ran through the villain as she depressed the plunger. Slowly, carefully, the last and most potent of Ivy's mutagens flooded Lois Lane's brain. A variation on the same cocktail that had made Ivy what she was.

With practiced ease, Ivy pulled the empty syringe from the reporter's skull. Already, Ivy could sense things happening in the reporter's body. Changes to the skin, the gut flora. The sleeping reporter's dreams wandered far, and touched the Green...

"Let's get this shrub into her new home," Ivy said.

Obediently, Mac and Jorge lifted the limp reporter and carried her to the empty tank. There were tubes for her mouth and nose, to feed Lois nutrient and oxygen, and other tubes to carry away wastes. Ivy grinned as she imagined the old reporter being carried away, one convulsive movement at a time, as something new grew in the old shell.

"You will be beautiful...Lotus Lane," Ivy murmured as her minions slid the naked reporter into the vat.

Which is how Lois Lane's night out ended. There was no escape this time. No imminent rescue. Her bad choices had brought her here, and her luck had simply run out. If she was conscious, Lois Lane might have taken some solace in the fact that she had found what happened to the missing women...but now she had joined them.